


Give Love (to weird baristas who like staring at your butt)

by xiujaemin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Humor, M/M, too many mulan jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiujaemin/pseuds/xiujaemin
Summary: Minseok doesn’t need to be a psychic to know that Luhan is weird and has a strong attraction for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://exopromptmeme.livejournal.com/15000.html?thread=7322520#t7322520) prompt. op, i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you wanted. i know you probably want fluff, but i ended up writing humor instead? OTL  
> also written because I am seriously depressed over everything and I need motivation because my life feels empty after a week of teaching nothing to kids only two years younger than me. Plus, people should never let me near the XiuHan tag on tumblr. Because I easily get feels and die.

“Fa Mulaaaan!” Jongdae hollers as he spots Minseok coming through the metal-framed door of the coffee shop. Jongdae has invited Minseok over to try his newly-discovered coffee shop right beside the grocery store his boyfriend Junmyeon owns, and Minseok is surprised that the place is decent (and exudes an aura of elegance and refinery, much unlike his uncouth and barbaric friend)

Minseok rolls his eyes, already used to the nickname from the hundreds of times Jongdae has called him that. “For the last time, Jongdae, I am not Mulan. I’m not even Chinese!” he doesn’t hide the exasperation in his voice from Jongdae’s insistence for him to be called that name just because he looks Chinese. From the first time that they met each other five years ago in music class, Jongdae has kept on reiterating that he looked like he came out from a Chinese movie, and that if he was a girl, he would definitely have been the perfect-looking geisha. The joke has never died out once from Jongdae’s lips ever since then. (It also doesn’t help that Mulan’s is the only Chinese name that Jongdae ever remembers from the movie)

(It started out with something out of the blue during one of their class breaks, like, “You may look like a bride, but senpai will never notice you!” To which Minseok obliviously repliesin protest with, “But I’m a guy? And why would I look like a bride, when I’m practically wearing sweats? And who’s the senpai you’re talking about, I’m already graduating next year! I’m the senpai here!”)

“Speaking without permission!” Jongdae fakes looking offended at the fact that Minseok answered back, holding his hand over his heart to emphasize his disappointment over his friend’s attitude as he tries his best to mimic the matchmaker’s voice from Mulan. “You can’t do that here, you peasant. You are a dishonor to your clan.”

Minseok sits down on the empty seat right across Jongdae and almost rolls his eyes, but stops halfway as he realizes that if he still keeps on doing that, his eyeballs will probably fall off sometime soon, because Jongdae will never let go of any opportunity to joke around. “Yeah, dishonor on me, dishonor on my family, dishonor on my cow.” He answers picking up the menu from the table and flipping over the pages to scour for something that might pique his interest.

“It is good that you realized that. Also, you are a shame to our entire clan, therefore I am disowning you.” Jongdae announces,eyebrows raised high as if challenging Minseok to argue with him.

“But we’re not even related?” Minseok tilts his head to the side, not willing to ride along to his friend’s crazy antics because he feels an oncoming headache. He needs to stock up on more Tylenol soon.

“OMG DID YOU JUST SAY THAT I WAS ADOPTED?” Jongdae looks as if he is about to go crazy, which is a bit of an understatement since Minseok has already known that Jongdae IS crazy.

“Uhm, no? I just said that we’re not related.” Minseok clarifies.

“That means the exact same thing!” Jongdae’s voice raises a few more octaves higher, gaining the attention of some customers from the coffee shop, and Minseok has to restrain himself to remain civilized and not slap his hand over Jongdae’s mouth to shut the other one up (or maybe just slap his friend senseless so that he could stop being such a scandalous little piece of shit). Thankfully, he is saved from answering by a gentle voice coming from a doe-eyed male who Minseok would have mistaken as a girl if it weren’t for the fact that the person didn’t have any boobs. Or maybe it was just because he was really skinny that his tits were the size of raisins.

“Can I help you with anything?” the barista takes out a notepad and pen from the black apron tied around his waist, eyes never leaving Minseok’s. Minseok tries not to shiver at the peculiar sparkle coming from the large eyes staring at him as if they were undressing him on the spot. The pixie-like boy flutters his eyes, and Minseok clears his throat, realizing that he has been staring too long. “I would like an espresso. How ‘bout you, Jongdae?”

Jongdae eyes Minseok from where he is seated, but doesn’t say a word about whatever he is thinking about. “I’ll have cappuccino. Oh, and a slice of tiramisu would be nice.” The barista nods as he jots down their orders. “Anything else?” they both shake their heads, and the barista closes the notepad with finality.

“And your name…?” the barista inquires, and even though Minseok knew that it was prerequisite for the baristas to write the customer’s name down to easily claim their orders, he was still sort of reluctant to give his.

“Just write down Jongdae,” Jongdae instructs, and the barista writes it down with a nod. “And you’re?”  
“Minseok,” Minseok replies, despite his hesitancy.

“Minseok?” the barista clarifies, and writes his name down when he confirms it with a nod. “Mmm.. Minseok.” The syllables roll off the barista’s tongue as he tries out the name, and Minseok couldn’t help but feel as if the barista was molesting him just by mentioning his name. “Okay, I’ll be right back with your orders.” Minseok doesn’t tell Jongdae that he just felt as if he were in a horror movie and was facing the real murderer, who nobody would really expect to kill even a fly because he looks that naïve.

Minseok is then hit with the sudden realization that baristas never usually leave their spots behind the counter and only waits for the customers to make their orders there. Jongdae sees the thought dawn on his friend, and chuckles evilly against his palm. “Minseok, I think someone is gay for you.”

Minseok glares daggers at Jongdae, and even though he is not actually a violent person, he wishes to stab Jongdae with a fork. At this, Jongdae’s snickers get louder. “Oh wait, let me rephrase that: Fa Mulan, I think you have found your Shen Long.”

Minseok groans because Jongdae has found yet again more blackmail material for him.

But then again, who the hell is Shen Long?

❣

Luhan tries his best not to be clumsy, but he couldn’t really help it if he trips on his own feet. He curses, partially thankful that nobody but his co-worker Zitao has seen his slip-up and that he isn’t carrying any coffee yet, so he is still safe from spilling anything all over his face (or his crotch).

“I see you got your eyes set on someone on your first day back already. Well done, gege.” Zitao compliments the older one. His voice is tinged with sarcasm and dripping with mischief, yet his eyes never leave the porcelain mug that he is wiping dry with a dish towel. “Ah, the things that vacations do to older people.” He sounds dreamy, if not completely deranged, that is.

“Geez Zitao, I’ve only asked for his order. I don’t even know his whole name yet!” Luhan answers, pouring newly-brewed coffee into one of the mugs that Zitao has already finished cleaning. “And I kinda only found out his name because most coffee shops need the customer’s name when claiming an order, and he doesn’t know that that isn’t required with our policy here?”

“But you like him, don’t you? Don’t deny it; I’ve seen the way you look at him. It was like watching National Geographic all over again,” He cuts Luhan off the moment the other’s mouth starts to open, about to say something in retaliation. “It’s like seeing a lion lock in on its prey, y’know? There was that creepy glint in your eyes, like you were going to eat him up then and there.”

At this point, Luhan finishes up designing the top of the espresso with intricate swirls. He looks up at Zitao, wondering if this was all a trap. “Yeah, I’ll eat him up like cheese.” He quotes from one of Zitao’s favorite songs, and the younger one isn’t really sure if he should go supply the next lyrics to the song or gag because Luhan seems to be implying something sexual.

Normally, in most coffee shops, they just leave the orders on top of the counter and chime the bell and call out the name of the customer, and they help themselves with the orders. Yet here, thebaristas themselves serve the orders to the customer. This time around, Luhan is definitely happy with his boss’s policies, even though most of the time, he just feels tired from going back and forth from different tables to the counter and back again. Zitao volunteers to serve the orders mainly because he just wants to stay away from Luhan, but also partly because he has a plan in mind. Luhan lets the younger one, even though he would’ve wanted to do it himself to get another peek of those supple cheeks and cat-like eyes. And probably some of the milky expanse of skin under the guy’s sleeves. Or maybe some of those collarbones…

“You’re drooling, ge.” Zitao pushes his mouth close with an index finger. “Next time, try being discreet.”  
Luhan groans. “All I want is to lick his face, is that too much to ask?”

“Yes, because licking the face of someone you just met is gross and totally unhygienic. All the germs and dirt ge, all the microoganisms crawling through his pores,” Zitao shivers in disgust. “And also, it’ll lead to you wanting to get in his pants,” Zitao takes the cups of coffee from him and puts them in a tray. “Don’t worry ge, you’ll get another chance. Just stop looking like a maniacal drug mule.”

“I do not look like that!” Luhan protests as Zitao expertly removes the latch on the half-door that leads outside the counter.

“Sure, because you look like bambi whose got a few shots of tequila and wants to rape his friend rabbit just for the heck of it.” Zitao mumbles loud enough for Luhan to hear.

❣

Minseok almost chokes on his coffee when he notices a folded slip of paper after he lifts the coffee cup from the table and scans what is written in it with his eyes after capably opening it with a single hand. A poorly-drawn stick figure occupies the upper half of the black slip of paper, everything being written on it using the recognizable white marker that coffee shops use to write on their daily menus. He believes it is one of their sample menus, since it looks like a mini version of the daily menu posted outside of the coffee shop. The problem though, is not the presence of the piece of paper, but what is written to fill in the blanks

“Today your barista is: Luhan. And he’s hella fucking gay, also desperately single,” he reads silently. He glances at the counter and checks the name tag of the two baristas standing there, occupied with their own work. He strains his neck as inconspicuously as possible, and reads the name tag on the one who approached him and Jongdae first as Luhan, which sort of explains the strange feeling he got when the barista looked at him.

“For your drink today, I recommend: you give me your number.” He wants to ask Jongdae for help, but what help would that one do? Besides, he’ll just go matchmaker mode again and spout some more nonsense that came from Mulan. Or maybe something he invented that might be somehow related to the movie that sounds optimally wise in his ears even though it is not even linked to any sane thought. Something that goes along the lines of, “But my daughter, you know some cherry blossoms bloom late. Why? Because they’re the beautiful-lest,” or maybe he’ll just sing along to his own version of “Reflections”on the top of his lungs. Minseok hopes he doesn’t, though, because last time he sang his own rendition of “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas in order to woo a certain Kim Jonginfrom the dance department back in their college daysand god knows how well that one went.

Minseok slides the piece of paper away from Jongdae’s view and slips it in his pocket as subtly as he could because even though he is crept out by those large eyes poring through every bit of his soul a few meters away and seem to be judging and taking note of his every move, he sort of maybe has a crush on that weirdo too, and his adorably bizarreand quirky ways. Even if he does seem to have psychotic tendencies.

Minseok starts questioning his sanity (since when did he have a knack for creepy people with a surprisingly attractive baby face and iridescent eyes?)

❣

Luhan looks up from the Americano he is stirring as two figures sitting on the table near the door stand up, and he is disappointed to see that the person he is silently calling dibs on is leaving. He simply uses the moment to check out the other’s figure, with a question tugging at the corners of his mind: “Do he got a booty?”

The guy stops by the door and lets his friend pass by first, and Luhan is touched (almost moved to tears, even), at the gentlemanly gesture. “He do.” He sighs dreamily, but is jolted awake from his fantasies by a sudden realization. “Oh shit, am I gay?” he asks himself.

Then the thought hits him. “Oh wait, I already AM gay.”

❣

Minseok comes back the following day right on the dot. Luhan had been expecting him to come, but wasn’t really thinking that he would, especially exactly at the same time as he first came in the other day. This time, Luhan heeds Zitao’s advice and goes for the “normal” and non-stalkerish type of dealing with things. He doesn’t head for Minseok’s table and ask for the other’s order, as he would’ve been too obvious already yesterday, since baristas don’t go out of their ways to come to a customer’s table to get their orders. Instead, he opts to stay behind the counter and try his best to fight the strong urge of going over to Minseok’s table and chatting him up.

This tirade only lasts for over less than an hour (a few minutes, actually), however, and he decides that “Ah, fuck it, I’ll go to my prince charming and prove that love conquers all so that we could trot off to our happily ever after,” even if he doesn’t really need to prove to anyone that anything conquers anything because there ain’t no shit going on between the two of them.

The moment he chooses to leave the counter and advance to the table near the door with such inhumane swiftness and vigor, Minseok is already looking him straight in the eye before he could even whip out his notepad and pen, the two items being his number one trusted alibi.

“Yes?” he hears from the cute stranger, and he couldn’t help but want to strangle something (or someone) because THIS GUY’S SO CUTE AND FLUFFY I WANT TO DIE.

“Can I order you?” Luhan accidentally blurts out, and there is that feeling of wanting to melt into a puddle of goo and disappear into non-existence. But he manages to keep up his act and stay cool about the whole situation (or at least try to). “I-I-I mean,” he clears his throat, yet he could still hear Minseok’s melodic chuckle. “Can I help you with anything? Is there anything in mind that you would like to order?”  
Minseok laughs wholeheartedly this time, and Luhan couldn’t help but get drowned in this stranger’s laughter. All the noise in the background fades away into nothingness and everything falls into place because of the moment’s perfection and the wonderful ring that comes to Luhan’s ears when he hears Minseok’s next words. “You?”

“Yes, I am Luhan and I am always available as an all-you-can-eat buffet,” he laughs at his lame attempt at a joke, yet the crinkles at the sides of Minseok’s eyes tell him that he isn’t probably that lame. Just plain stupid.

“Oh, so you’re Luhan,” Minseok nods with understanding, not minding to tell Luhan that he’s already found out the latter’s name through the pretty obvious laminated name tag pinned on his shirt, just over the right part of his chest.

Luhan seems to pick up where Minseok is getting at, and inquires what he meant. “You know, this Luhan.” Minseok brings out an all-too familiar black slip of paper and hands it over to Luhan. He isn’t sure whether Luhan looks constipated or angry. Or maybe his face just really gets as contorted as that when he’s feeling too much emotion? Like diarrhea? Wait, is that even an emotion? Minseok reminds himself to check online for a complete list of emotions that can possibly be felt and see if something matches Luhan’s.

Or maybe he’ll find out that bad breath is another possible answer, just as he found out from his friend, Baekhyun that you should just answer “Jesus” whenever you’re asked and you don’t know how to respond. (There was this one time when Kyungsoo, one of his former colleagues, asked him what his favorite color was back in their first official day as medical technologists in a well-known hospital, and wanting to try out Baekhyun’s advice, he answered Jesus. And judging by the fact that every time they meet at work nowadays when Kyungsoo would always avert his gaze or make up excuses not to hang out with him, Minseok knows that that didn’t play out pretty well as he had planned in mind)

“W-Who… gave you this?” Luhan crumples the paper with a single hand, voice coming out sharp even though he intended to make it sound as light as possible. Minseok nods to the only guy standing by the counter, wiping mugs dry with a clean cloth. Luhan trudges over, muttering an, “I’ll be back.” Minseok partially feels pity for the tall, fierce-looking guy because judging from the deep circles under his eyes, he’s already had enough shit to deal with for a lifetime.

❣

“Huang Zitao, what do you think you are doing??!!” Zitao almost drops the mug he is cleaning in shock, but manages to cling to it better than he does to his lifeline, because judging from the look on Luhan’s face, he might just as well be murdered right before dinner.

“Uhm, my job? Which is primarily composed of wiping these mugs until I can clearly see my reflection in them, and to the extent that you could see your acne?”

“I do not—“ Luhan seems to be deliberating whether to punch him in the face or to continue talking to him. “I mean, what did you just do yesterday? Why’d you give him this?” Luhan shoves a piece of paper into his face, and Zitao doesn’t need to take it and check because he knows pretty well by now that the man of Luhan’s ultra-gay fantasies have turned on him.

“I was… uhm… trying to help?” He tries, putting on his best dongsaeng voice.

“You were sabotaging my chances! Now he thinks I’m crazily head-over-heels in love with him!” a couple in their forties sitting nearest the counter looks at them in alarm.

“But aren’t you?”

“N—I mean ye—But..” Luhan stutters. Deep inside, Zitao is cackling in glee because it is rare that Luhan gets flustered over anything. He wishes he could record this moment and play it on repeat on his laptop, but decides against it because that would’ve been too obvious.He manages to keep his face look neutral even though his hands are twitching, wanting to reach over his pocket to get his phone and document everything. “That’s not the point! The point is, don’t ever pull off any feat like that ever again! And if you do, I swear I will castrate you myself. Then I’ll send you off to the museum so they could have a real-life eunuch on display.”

Zitao knows pretty much well that Luhan is hanging on to empty threats, so he answers with a “Hm… ‘Kay,” before returning to his job.

Luhan looks outright offended. “Bitch did you just ‘k’ me?”

Just then, the door opens and Luhan is forced to plaster a smile on his face to welcome the new customer even though he’s not done with peppering Zitao with death threats yet. “Just you wait till I get my hands on you, you little prick.” He says between clenched teeth as the customer approaches the counter.

“Everybody wants their hands on me, what’s new?” Zitao shakes his head.“It’s not like it’s my fault if I was born hot or anything.”

❣

“Wassup, wushu!” someone slaps Minseok in the back, and he’s all too familiar with the gesture that he doesn’t even need psychic powers to know it’s Jongdae.

“You’re eighteen minutes late,” He looks up from his wristwatch as Jongdae occupies the seat in front of him. “We’re the only customers left here, you idiot. And who the hell is wushu?”

Jongdae rolls his eyes at Minseok as if it was a basic fact the world is supposed to know, only that Minseok is too much of a dumb idiot to figure out anything on his own. “Wushu, that dragon from Mulan. Duh.” He says it so confidently that Minseok doesn’t have the heart to correct him and say it’s Mushu. Like pork. Which is kinda ironic, to be a name for a dragon.

“Oh my god, what is that hideous thing,” Jongdae points in horror at the bag strapped across Minseok’s body.  
“Uhm, it’s a satchel?”

“I know what it’s called, I am not a bumbling buffoon,” Jongdae emphasizes, though Minseok almost points out that he’s not exactly the brightest of their bunch. “What I mean is, WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT MAN PURSE IT IS DISGUSTING, IT IS ALMOST THE SAME AS WEARING COUPLE TURTLE NECKS IN PUBLIC.”

“No, it’s not!” Minseok protests.

“Yes, it is. Now take it off before I get a scalpel and peel it off your skin,” Minseok pouts but obliges, tucking the bag beside him since it still contains all of his belongings. He doesn’t want the “It’s a Wednesday but you’re not wearing pink, so you can’t sit with us” joke happening all over again. He’s already had enough of all the lame Mulan jokes to get started with another round of Mean Girls.

Jongdae clucks his tongue. “Too bad I don’t have the proper equipment to collect the souls of the people who have dropped dead from seeing you miles away donning that repulsive… thing.”

Minseok gives him a sardonic clap, trying his best not to laugh at his own joke by pulling off a serious face. “Four for you Chen coco, you go Chen coco.”

“None for you, Kim Minseok,” Jongdae supplies. “And please, drop off the nickname.”

“Why, you don’t want anybody here knowing that you used to be an underground rapper who almost tried killing a virgin to sacrifice her to Satan only to make it great to the entertainment industry?”

“But I didn’t kill, or even attempted to kill anyone?”

“Oh,” Minseok blinks. “Wrong movie.” He apologetically adds with a sheepish grin.

“Here’s your order, sorry if it took too long. The coffee machine broke, and I had to everything by hand,” Luhan comes over with a cup of steaming hot coffee topped with whipped cream and chocolate powder, its heady scent wafting into the air.

“It’s nothing,” Minseok tries not to fidget as he comes in contact with Luhan’s skin as he takes the coffee from the latter’s hand. Jongdae notices this and decides to step in and make the situation much more uncomfortable.

“Would you like to stay here? Like, maybe talk or something, since we’re the only customers here right now?”  
“No problem,” Luhan casually answers. “Would you like me to stay forever?” Jongdae eyes Minseok and wiggles his eyebrows at the older one, sending through his telepathic waves that Luhan was for keeps just because he knew Mulan jokes.

Then Jongdae stands, as the great conspirator that he is, muttering something about diarrhea, body odor, bad breath and unplucked armpit hair before proceeding to run to the bathroom a little ways beside the counter.  
“Such a noble man, willing to sacrifice himself and his pride for in needing times like this,” Zitao clucks his tongue. “Just like me. Honor to us all.” he nods behind the counter and moves to make a cup of coffee for himself because if he doesn’t get any caffeine in his system, he might puke at Luhan’s face for all of the cheesy grossness.

Minseok seems to be enjoying his time talking to Luhan (whom he finds out as an undeniably weird yet intriguing individual), that he doesn’t mind the other boy looking at him with dreamy eyes and giving out hints of subtle flirting anymore and doesn’t even notice when Jongdae goes out the door, a paper bag with two holes in front covering his whole head that suspiciously looks like one of the paper bags the coffee shop has for take outs.


End file.
